


Irezumi

by orphan_account



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, tattoos and yakuza, trip being weird and gross, virus being whiny trips caretaker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-28 07:25:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11413068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's time for Trip to get his yakuza tattoo, and Virus chooses Ryuuhou for the job.





	1. First Session

**Author's Note:**

> It occurred to me the other day that Ryuuhou and ViTri seem so weirdly compatible, and and I think it's unlikely they've never met. So, I kinda started writing this on a whim. It was supposed to be a short one-shot, but now it's turning into a medium-sized multi-chapter fic. It's the longest piece of fiction I've written in my life, and I'm pretty surprised at myself.
> 
> That said, I'm a white American guy whose only resources on Japan and a lot of other elements of this fic are internet research. If I wrote something inaccurate or you notice any inconsistencies, please let me know!
> 
> (The fic title is just the Japanese word for "tattoo". I'm not too creative.)

The Midorijima yakuza is unconventional in many senses, but some traditions remain constant. One such tradition is that of large, intricate tattoos that span the skin of members, brand them for a lifetime--the same expected timespan of their loyalty. Virus and Trip are no exceptions. Too many rules had already been bent and brushed aside to accommodate for the unusual young men’s entrance into the clan, and their boss had made it clear that no more breaking from the mold would be allowed. 

Virus had begun squeezing his way into the yakuza at seventeen, and after successfully securing his place in the ranks, had received his tattoo at nineteen. The tattoo artist worked specifically for the clan, and had done tattoos for almost all present members. The pros for that artist included a steady and hefty salary, a residence given to him from the big boss himself, and all the other goods most yakuza can reap for themselves in the business. The cons include the fact that no matter what your position is, someone is always out for your ass. In a bad roll of destiny’s dice, the artist happened to be partying at one of the club fronts on the night of a hit. The fateful bullet went through his stomach, straight through the eye of the _oni_ tattooed there.

Luckily, Virus’ serpent had been completed long before his death, a vibrant scaly body surrounded by white lotus flowers, swirling across the smooth pale expanse of his back. Most of the tattoo had been done in traditional nara ink, and Virus found himself appreciative of the deep emerald-teal color. Trip once offhandedly commented that the ink’s color complimented his eyes, and his silent appreciation never deteriorated. 

The time for Trip’s own tattoo came five years later. By that time, the clan had picked up a couple new tattoo artists, but neither with the skill that came with the decades of experience that the previous artist had had. Neither had as much experience with the other aspect of their new job either, and that was dealing with the nasty crowd they needed to needle. Trip would have been hard even for the old master to handle. No matter how much time passed, Trip was still as volatile and reactive to physical contact from anyone but Virus as he was when he was a child, only now he was strong enough to crush a grown man’s arm with one hand. Being forced to lie down naked and vulnerable while an unfamiliar person’s gloved hands prodded at his body would only trigger memories of the institute, making him all the more likely to snap. 

After presenting that reasoning, his boss was swayed and allowed Virus some liberty. Despite his short time in the ranks, Trip had already made himself a reputation as an unpredictable attack dog, and no one was keen on having to replace the resident tattoo artists a second time. Virus could find his own tattoo artist for Trip. And he already had someone in mind.

Virus and Trip had first heard his name around the time of Morphine’s birth. This had been a time when Toue’s researchers completed a wave of new drugs and required massive experiments to test them. Morphine had been created as a way to gather subjects for this purpose, but others were commissioned as experimenters as well. One such person was Ryuuhou, a prodigious tattoo artist who values his own work over anything. Even over lives. 

###### ※

Virus and Trip had met him once before, when picking up drugs from Toue, since it seemed that the kind found in the ink of Ryuuhou’s tattoos was also used occasionally by Morphine. They had no particular interest in him, and Ryuuhou most likely would have shared that feeling had the drug exchange been uneventful. But at the last minute the situation went awry as two of Virus and Trip’s underlings grabbed the drugs and pulled guns on their overseers. It was events like this that made Virus and Trip consider just brainwashing everyone in their group and working with obedient zombies. It would be so much easier.

Before the grunts could even finish yelling their demands, Virus and Trip had their own guns in hand, and shot two bullets, simultaneously. 

Virus clicked his tongue, glaring apathetically at the corpses that crumpled to the ground. 

“Blood on the drugs again…” Trip remarked. “It’s a pain to clean that.” 

Virus replaced his gun in the holster underneath his jacket, and wiped his face before checking his clothes. It was unlikely any blood had gotten on him, but he still didn’t like walking around looking dirty.

Trip had squatted down and was prodding the face of one of the body’s with his gun, like a child playing with his food. 

Virus glanced down at him. “Don’t shoot them any more. I don’t want a mess today.”

“Aw…” was Trip’s only response. The eyes of the bodies were still open, so Trip put his hands over their eyelids and closed them. “Night night.”

Ryuuhou had stood at the side and watched it all take place. They would have forgotten he was even there, had he not taken a few quiet steps forward and clapped, as if someone had just finished performing a lovely song for him. A devilish smile, at once insidious and perfectly relaxed, was plastered to his face as he eyed the young men. 

“You handled that wonderfully. I was a bit scared for a second,” he said in a sing-song voice. 

If first impressions meant anything, he was not the type to get scared. Trip looked up boredly at him for a second, then turned back to playing with the corpses. It was a thoroughly disgusting habit of his, and although Virus didn’t really care, he was surprised that Ryuuhou didn’t seem to mind either. Even their superiors would grimace at Trip’s odd games, and turn to Virus and ask “why the [i]hell[/i] does he have to do that”? Trip doesn’t have to. He just wants to. That’s what makes it all the more unsettling.

When Virus didn’t respond either, Ryuuhou greeted him more formally, this time with an outstretched hand. 

“Oh, do forgive me for not properly introducing myself. My name is Ryuuhou.”

Virus’ patience was running low for the day, but he took a breath and put on a nice smile nonetheless. Congeniality paid off in this business. He reached out his hand and gripped Ryuuhou’s. 

“It’s an honor to meet you. I’m Virus. My partner is Trip.”

Ryuuhou’s hand was firm yet soft, even through his black leather gloves. An interesting oxymoron of a man. A thought flashed through the back of Virus’ mind, that they may be birds of one feather. 

“The honor is mine, Virus.” Dark blue eyes glittered as they washed over Virus’ face, and looked down at Trip as if he were a pretty painting. “You’re both very interesting individuals. A fantastic duo as well. Twins?”

The smile on Virus’ face faltered for a split second. “We’re not twins.” Virus and Trip said in unison.

Ryuuhou couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Even more interesting.”

“Unfortunately, I am on a tight schedule today though…” Ryuuhou continued, reaching into his kimono and finding a card. “But I would love to see you both again. So please, contact me some time in the future.” With that, he smiled and handed Virus a business card. Inspecting it, Virus saw that it was decorated with an elegant ink design of a seahorse and the name _Ryuuhou_ written in calligraphy. Beneath the name was a phone number and email.

By the time Virus looked up from the card, Ryuuhou had vanished. Funny. As if he spirited himself away.

The sound of Trip standing up brought his attention back to the current situation, and Virus sighed.

“I’ll have to call for body clean-up… Let’s go.”

“Bye-bye,” Trip waved at the cadavers, and walked away.

###### ※

Now, Virus plans on using that card for the first time. 

Virus enters the front door of their home, and notices that Trip arrived before him. Whether he arrived significantly earlier or just a short while ago, Virus can’t tell, because although Trip is already stripped down to his boxers and eating cupcakes on the couch, throwing off his pants is often the first thing he does when he gets home so it doesn’t take too long for him to get situated like this. Virus doesn’t bother calling out an “I’m home”; He knows that Trip’s sharp ears can hear him from half a kilometer away. The doctors did a much better job on Trip than him, he thinks as he adjusts his glasses.

“You should get used to keeping your shirt on more often.”

“Ehh…” Trip’s eyes travel lazily to meet Virus’. 

“Your lucky day is coming up. You need to get your tattoo.”

“Hm…” Trip looks away, thinks about something for a moment. “Can I get a snake like yours?”

Virus shakes his head. “It’s unlikely. Traditionally the artist decides most of the design.”

Trip’s eyes narrow a bit, a small pout taking shape on his curved lips. 

“I don’t want anyone to touch me.” Trip’s voice this time is much harder, colder than before.

“I figured as much,” Virus replied, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it across the arm of the couch. “That’s why I chose your artist. It won’t be the anyone from the organization.” 

Trip’s gaze softens, if only slightly, but the pout doesn’t leave. “You can’t tattoo me?”

“Do you think I can?” Virus holds up a hand, showcasing the way his fingers vibrate without stopping. Yes, the doctors hadn’t done the best job with him, and the years of drug use afterwards hadn’t helped. “Besides, I’ve never been the artistic one.” 

People were always surprised to learn that Trip had been the one to design Morphine’s tag. Not Virus though, who had been with Trip since childhood, when he was a selective mute whose only way of expressing himself other than vicious violence was through furiously drawn crayon artworks. If anyone could be a tattoo artist out of their duo, it would be Trip, with his strong steady hands and mind that worked in a way that could never quite translate into words. He never would be though, because Trip would stab the needle straight through their heart before even dipping it in the ink.

“I don’t care.” Trip says with a deadpan, and Virus knows he’s being truthful. Trip probably wouldn’t mind if Virus stabbed the needle through his heart.

“I know you don’t. But everyone else does.”

Trip doesn’t respond to that with anything more than a short huff, and they spend the next few moments in silence. Virus takes off his tie and puts it on his jacket, then undoes the top two buttons of his shirt, while Trip stares the way he always does. Trip licks all the frosting off of a cupcake, puts it back on the plate, then licks all the frosting off the next. 

“Who.” Trip’s inquiry comes out short and low, more like a demand than a question.

“What?” Virus looks at him.

“ _Who_.”

Oh. The tattoo artist, he means. Virus pauses, then chuckles a little. “You’ll see. You know him.”

“Hmm…” Trip drones. He’s finished licking the frosting of all the cupcakes, so he finally peels off the wrapper and takes a bite.

###### ※

The needles enter Trip’s skin, and from the puncture wounds a searing pain spreads throughout all his body like wildfire. Trip’s face stays blank as he inhales sharply, and his fingers twitch. The pain is intense, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t experienced worse. The skin of his back that Ryuuhou would be covering in ink is already decorated with its fair share of scars. Knives, bullets, and needles had made countless marks on the skin of both Virus and Trip over the years, but Trip’s violent impulses and preference for a more physical way of expressing his emotions all led him to gaining plenty more scars than his partner. As similar as they may appear at first glance, upon further inspection one can easily see how their individual inner colors seep out to affect their appearances. 

A six centimeter long line along the bottom of his ribcage; a slash from a pissed drunk Ribsteez who hadn’t taken kindly to Trip’s invasion on their territory. Indented dots decorating his lower spine; pricks from countless needles pressed into his back as a child during his years as a lab rat. A faded pink circle two centimeters in diameter; the mark made by a bullet shot by a spun out dealer who was “ _damn_ sure” that Virus and Trip had fucked with him, that it was their fault his cash wasn’t adding up right. Thin white lines running from his shoulder-blades and down; scratches from the nights spent in bed when Virus hadn’t trimmed his nails in a while. Each mark on his skin told a story, and the design being laid across it right now marks the beginning of a new one, in the Midorijima yakuza.

Opposite of Trip sits the man who will be accompanying him throughout this story, legs crossed and fingers laced together, eyes locked intently on Trip’s own. When Ryuuhou’s hand began moving again, his eyes flick upwards for a split second before returning, seemingly measuring Trip’s every reaction to the needles with a thin smile on his lips. Minutes pass in this way, when Virus’s eyebrows raise slightly and his bottom lip twitches in an expression that Trip had come to know meant that Virus had just thought of something.

“Trip isn’t done growing. He’s still getting taller and putting on muscle regularly. Won’t the tattoo stretch?” 

The rhythm of Ryuuhou’s hands never pauses as the artist breathes a light laugh. 

“I work with my subject’s body in mind. I’ve tattooed boys much younger.” Ryuuhou’s eyes remain trained on Trip’s back, but they seem to go unfocused for a moment and the corners of his mouth curve further up, as if recalling a fond memory. “They all turned out beautifully. There’s no need to worry.” 

As the needles are pressed repeatedly through his skin, the bursts of fire simmer down to hot coals and a stinging numbness falls over Trip. Trip isn’t sure if his body had a high tolerance for pain, or if his mind is just used to the stress, but he finds himself getting bored after twenty minutes. His fingers no longer twitch and his breathing is perfectly even, and his head slouches flat on the mat. 

He despises the feeling of someone else’s hands on him. Just by being touched, it felt as if disgusting sticky mud was slathered all over him. But Virus’ presence is strong and constant, and if Trip meets his eyes and looks into the cool flat blue, he feels clean again. So he stares, and stares.

“You’re being so good,” Ryuuhou remarks in that gentle voice of his. “Most people are groaning and biting their hands by now. And after rumors I’ve heard of you, I really thought I’d have to drug you.”

Trip doesn’t know if it’s an insult or praise. He doesn’t care. So he doesn’t respond. 

Ryuuhou isn’t bothered by Trip’s silence, and continues, this time addressing Virus. “Is it because you’re here?”

“I had my concerns about Trip as well. He’s easier when he’s with me, so I thought it would be better for me to come with him.”

“Oh?” The smile in his voice is audible. “Like a wild animal and his tamer…” He sounds genuinely fascinated, as if he were a student taking notes on his favorite subject. The rate at which the needles move slightly increases.

“If I remember well, you’ve told me before that you’re not twins…” Ryuuhou begins.

“We’re not twins.” Comes the quick two-toned reply.

Ryuuhou giggles. “Yes, of course. Then, would it be inappropriate for me to ask what you _are_?”

The reply this time is not so fast, Trip making no attempt to answer the question and Virus putting his hand on his chin, as if he were searching for the answer just as much as Ryuuhou was. 

Virus exhales, having decided. “Partners.”

“Partners?”

“Yes. We work together as a team, and we stay together because we work well. That’s been the case for a long time.” 

“I see,” Ryuuhou responds. “How long is that?”

Virus tilts his head back for a moment, thinking out loud. “Let’s see… I’m twenty-four now… That makes it ten years.” 

“And Trip here must be younger.”

“We have a six year age difference.”

Ryuuhou smiles. “Does it frustrate you, being smaller despite being his senior?”

“Not particularly. I could always tell he would grow to be larger, since we were children. His shoulders were broader than the rest of his body and he put on weight easily. His size gives him an invaluable advantage since he prefers the physical aspect of our jobs, then I take care of the rest. It works out.”

Virus’ responses are growing larger with each question, so he must be enjoying the conversation. He always did like to talk, and Trip doesn’t mind because his voice is white and pure. Each word that escapes his lips hangs in the air like a snowflake then washes over him like a wave of clear, clean water. 

Virus’ habit for being talkative is also useful for Trip, who hates small talk and answering to anyone he isn’t interested in. Virus knows Trip inside and out, so he’s able to respond on Trip’s behalf in almost every situation. Trip just chimes in when he feels like it, or when he has something particularly important to say. This was something that irritated other yakuza members when they first joined, but it was accepted along with their other quirks as soon as it became obvious that their level of performance was something the syndicate hadn’t seen in years.

Trip hears Virus and Ryuuhou continue their conversation, and zones out listening to the droning of their soft, even voices. He hears them talking about the past, about how the two met, how their work is with Toue, how work is with the yakuza. Virus asks about Ryuuhou’s endeavors, and Ryuuhou tells him more about those boys he’d tattooed in the past. He hears the name “Koujaku” and thinks it sounds familiar, but he can’t remember why. He figures that if he can’t remember it, it must not be important, so he drops it. Virus probably knows, anyway.

The stinging sensation on Trip’s back changes when Ryuuhou picks up a small cloth and begins wiping excess ink and blood off of his skin. The cloth is soft, but Trip’s skin is raw and sore, so any contact no matter how gentle brings with it a spike of discomfort.

“How long are we gonna be here?” Trip’s question is directed at Virus, but Ryuuhou is the one who replies.

“This session should be about eight hours long. I’ll have you wait about three weeks so it can heal, then you’ll come back again. Most likely, we’ll have…” Ryuuhou runs the tip of his finger around Trip’s back, his eyes scanning him, seeing the artwork printed there in his mind’s eye. “Four or five sessions total.”

The finger now moves up to touch Trip’s jaw as Ryuuhou leans forward, then travels to his chin, turning his head until Trip faces Ryuuhou’s smile and dark eyes. “So, please allow me to take care of you.” 

It’s as Trip is looking into Ryuuhou’s eyes that he thinks, maybe this guy is interesting. Maybe I don’t hate him. Those eyes are the color of a cloudy ocean on a cold day, a frigidness reflected in the falsely joyful expression that would have been warm had it been worn by anyone else but him. He isn’t honest, shining, and sharp like Virus, but there’s a slow electricity that runs through his veins and Trip can feel it. He isn’t beautiful, but he could be fun.

He decides he doesn’t hate him, so he responds, “Okay.”


	2. First Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now it gets a little domestic.

“I’m tired,” Trip half-groans when they finally reach home. 

His back is bleeding, so he couldn’t sit properly in the car. They had to recline the seat all the way down and have Trip sit in a way that his back didn’t touch anything. 

“I wanna shower.” Trip kicks off his shoes and drags his feet as he walks through the hall.

“You can’t. The bandages need to stay dry, remember?” Virus uses a stern tone. Since he’s the one telling him, he doesn’t think Trip will disobey, but still the last thing he wants to do is drag Trip to the hospital because he mistreated a large tattoo and got a blood infection.

Trip makes his way to the couch and flops down on his stomach, grunting at the impact. Ryuuhou had worked primarily on the upper portion on his back today, so it stung to move his arms at the shoulders as well.

Virus pities him a bit, because unlike himself, Trip’s most valuable tool is his own body. Virus is used to sitting in one place and filling out paperwork for hours, but having the movement of his body constricted will be a much more painful experience for Trip. 

Virus isn’t looking forward to it either, since they’ll have to rearrange their normal work schedules, Trip taking on some paperwork and Virus going out in person for missions more often. Knowing Trip’s attention span, not much paperwork will get done and Virus will end up with just as much work as usual. Virus just hopes that Trip won’t be called to take Virus’ place in negotiation talks. Trip’s ideas of negotiations are less than amiable. Hopefully painkillers will make him more agreeable.

“Do you want me to help you to your bed?”

“No,” Trip grumbles into a throw-pillow. 

Virus sighs and seats himself on the arm of the couch next to Trip’s head. His fingers run through Trip’s hair, nails grazing his scalp, and Trip immediately feels a cool white noise travel over his body. Tension leaves Trip’s torso and he sinks further into the couch cushions.

“What kind of painkiller do you want?”

“Ten shots of morphine.”

Virus rolls his eyes. “I can get you one, but I don’t have any here so you would have to wait.”

“Hydrocodone.”

“I have oxy.”

“Okay.”

Virus removes his hand, and Trip whines a bit. Walking up to his room, Virus pulls open his nightstand drawers and begins sifting through the dozens of pill bottles that crowd the space. He has to take some out and toss them on the bed before he can reach the one he’s looking for, conveniently in the very back. Virus sits back on his heels and stares for a moment at the clutter. Two drawers, full. It isn’t like it’s mixed with empty bottles, or bottles with just two pills left inside either; his bedroom is just a pharmacy. Both he and Trip have to take medication regularly to cope with the bodily deterioration that’s associated with taking beta-stage drug after beta-stage drug as children. Virus probably hasn’t been clean since he was five years old, and he estimates the same for Trip. Virus exhales through his nose and closes the drawers. It’s not worth dwelling on now. It’s just life.

When he comes back into the living room, Trip props his chin up on the pillow to look at him. As Virus comes closer he instinctively reaches out a hand to grab the bottle and hisses as his skin stretches. 

“Do you have a drink?”

“Don’t need one.”

“Suit yourself.”

Virus twists the caps off the bottles and pours out two tablets of oxycodone, holding them out in his open hand. Trip takes the pills and throws them in his mouth, bucking his head back and swallowing them dry. He’s probably swallowed a million pills in his short lifetime, and he’s gotten used to taking them this way. His record is nine in one gulp without choking. 

“How long until I can take the wrapping off?”

“Ryuuhou said one day. Weren’t you listening?”

“I was sleepy.” Trip shrugs, and regrets it.

Virus tuts and looks at him the way you might look at a puppy who just ran into a wall. Trip really does look tired. They were there until midnight and Ryuuhou took no breaks, so he supposes his exhaustion is warranted. Virus reseats himself on the couch arm and cards his fingers through Trip’s hair again. It doesn’t take long for “sleepy” to turn into “sleeping”.

###### ※

“Hurry up.”

“I can’t just rip it off. Did your mother never teach you patience?”

Trip laughs at the lame joke. The only teaching he ever got on that subject was in his disciplinary behavioral counselling in the institute, and he never paid attention in those sessions.

They’re both sitting in the bathtub as Virus pours lukewarm water out of a cup onto Trip’s bandages and slowly peels them off. With each portion of bandage comes blood, plasma, and ink. Trip’s fingers play with the dirty water that rushes past his legs and into the drain, while Virus’ fingers move softly along his back. When the last of the bandages have been removed and tossed into the garbage, Virus grabs liquid soap and pours some in the palm of his hand. 

“I want the good smelling soap.”

“I can’t use fragranced soap on a wound.”

Trip scoffs but doesn’t protest. When Virus begins rubbing the soap across his skin, washing away the body fluids and ink, Trip seems to lean into his touch. 

“It doesn’t hurt when I touch it?” Virus looks curiously at Trip.

“It hurts.”

It hurts, but because Virus is touching it, he doesn’t mind. The pure white sensation seeps into his skin and it feels like cold water on a burn.

After a few minutes, the water running down his back becomes clear instead of muddy. Once all the blood washes down the drain, Trip closes it so the bathtub begins to fill with water. Virus grabs more soap, and bubbles start to surround them.

Trip is still on painkillers, and the cloudiness of his brain combined with the warm air and Virus’ massaging hands test his ability to stay conscious. His breathing deepens and he starts to slouch, until Virus reaches around to flick his temple.

“Ow…”

“Don’t fall asleep. You’re heavy and I don’t want to carry you out of here. Leaving you to soak in water isn’t a choice either.”

His words come out hard, but Virus is relaxed too. Blood and lymph aren’t the most appetizing things to touch, but the more he washes it the more he realizes how beautiful Trip’s new tattoo is. The design is still a bit warped by swelling and redness, and it will soon be obscured by scabs and peeling skin, but right now Virus can take in the deep red peonies beginning to unfold on Trip’s upper back. Ryuuhou seems to be working from the top down instead of doing an overall outline then moving on to coloring. It’s an unusual way to go about a tattoo, but it looks magnificent so far so Virus has no plans of questioning him.

“What.” Trip’s voice wakes him out of his reverie.

“Huh?”

“You stopped moving. Is something bad?” Trip had done everything Virus said. If it was infected already, he wouldn’t let Virus blame it on him.

“Ah… No. It’s fine. I was just looking.”

Trip grunts a “hm” in reply. 

When they get out of the bath, Trip dries off the majority of his body with a towel then lies face down on his bed waiting for his back to air dry. Virus meets him at his bedside ten minutes later fully dressed and with a container of lotion in his hand.

Trip moves to scoot over and make space for Virus, but Virus climbs over him and seats himself on Trip’s thighs. Trip hears the sound of the lid being popped off, and soon a cool creme is being spread over his tattoo. Today has been a back-and-forth between bitter pain and sweet relief, and he can’t decide how he feels about it. It certainly has its perks though.

“I could get used to you waiting on me like this, Virus.” Trip smiles. As uncaring as Virus pretends to be, he has a doting side that becomes apparent in situations like this.

“Excuse me?” 

“You should put on a maid costume too. That’s my favorite one.”

For a second time that night, Virus’ index fingernail makes contact with Trip’s temple in a flick. Trip hears him mutter “Brat,” under his breath.

Trip likes moments like this. There’s a bright aura that floats around Virus that only he can see, and at times like this the aura surrounds him too. All the anger and disgust that Trip feels towards everyone else, the emptiness and constant boredom he feels in the outside world, it stops mattering. The impulses to destroy things, to hurt people, they fade away for a bit. It all fades away until the only thing left is Virus. 

The sleepiness from earlier returns, and this time nothing stops him from succumbing to it. For the second night in a row, Virus feels with his hands all the tension leaves Trip’s body, sees with his eyes a perfect calm come over Trip’s face. In the bath, the water washed all the styling gel out of Trip’s hair, and now it falls down flat and soft. Virus’ hands move to Trip’s hair, and he sees the beginning of dark red roots growing out. When Trip is like this, he starts to look his age. Maybe in another universe where they hadn’t been abandoned children, where they hadn’t been taken in by a corporation that valued human lives no more than rodents or flies, that’s what Trip would look like all the time. But in that universe, Trip wouldn’t dye his hair. He wouldn’t follow Virus into the yakuza, and get a traditional tattoo. In that universe, Trip wouldn’t know Virus. 

For better or for worse, Virus is fine with the way things are now. The last thing Trip feels before slipping into soft darkness are lips pressed to the back of his neck.

###### ※

“It fucking itches.”

Virus continues tapping away at his keyboard, inhaling deeply and continuing his work as he tries to block out Trip’s frustrated moaning. Trip had no problem doing the math for double-checking the transactions and deposits to all the bank accounts under their control, but he couldn’t be bothered to answer a single email today, so now it became his partner’s responsibility. Virus, meanwhile, had had to go out and make rounds through the most dangerous part of their territory. For the first time in a long time, Virus had been forced to fistfight, and now his hands were sore and bandaged. On top of it all, they’re out of wine and the liquor store is closed. Virus is running low on optimism, and Trip is not helping.

“Fuuuuuccckkk…”

The tapping slows as Virus brings one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Uuuugghhh…”

Finally, Virus slams the lid of his laptop shut.

“Trip, I never thought I would have to say this to you of all people, but shut the fuck up.”

Virus’ head snaps in his direction when he sees Trip’s hand snaking over behind his back to scratch at it.

“Don’t.”

Caught in the act, he drops his hand with a growl of discontent. 

“If you can’t behave yourself I’ll just tie your hands and gag you.”

“Kinky, daddy.”

Virus’ hand pinches the bridge of his nose again, and he glares at Trip over the brim of his glasses.

“I changed my mind. I’ll just dope you up so much that you sleep until your scabs are healed.”

“That’ll kill me.”

“Thank god.”

###### ※

Two weeks later, and Trip’s whining finally comes to a close. Virus still has to throw a pen at Trip every now and then to keep him from picking at the peeling skin, but other than that they return to a normal schedule.

Virus buys Trip some larger shirts so his tattoo isn’t suffocated by the fitted shirts he usually wore. He misses the way Trip’s muscles strained against the fabric every time he stretched, but it’s a small price to pay for a tattoo that will last a lifetime.

Virus makes sure to appreciate this small stretch of time he has now with a quiet, uncomplaining Trip, knowing that in a week the cycle will continue, and the flowers on Trip’s back will continue to bloom. For some reason, Virus realizes he’s excited to see the tattoo develop. It’s a strange sensation, but he doesn’t fight it.

Trip doesn’t hate the tattoo either, even if it pisses him off sometimes. Virus helped angle him in front of a few mirrors so he could see it. He decided that the colors were his favorite part; a deep red that seemed very much at home on his pallid skin, the color of blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if the color of blood is foreshadowing.


	3. Second Session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets a little messy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if it was clear, but I imagined that the time setting for this fic is somewhere after Virus and Trip have met Aoba (Sly), but long before the events of the DMMd game. I figured this was the period where Virus and Trip were left mostly to their own devices and got most involved with the yakuza.

“-Ugh, f- _fuck_.” Trip stumbled through the door, pulling a limping Virus with him. As soon as he got in, he slammed the door shut and searched for a lock to secure it with.

“Oh dear,” came a familiar quiet voice.

Just then, Ryuuhou came around the corner to see the two young men, drenched in sweat, blood and rain, leaning against the door of his studio. Trip coughed, and small drops of blood dripped out of the corner of his mouth, the result of his mouth having taken a beating. Virus’ hands were locked around a deep red stain on his left thigh, and a bit of blood seeping through the cracks between his fingers.

“You gotta have medical stuff right? G-get it.” Trip stuttered from the cold. He grabbed Virus around the shoulders and half-dragged him to the nearest mat on the floor, lowering him down to lie on his back.

Virus had been uncharacteristically quiet for the past few minutes, and that was now registering in Trip’s mind. 

“Virus.” His voice comes deep and urgent, and he reaches a wet hand out to grab the side of his partner’s face.

Virus’ eyes quickly meet his and didn’t seem to have lost any of their focus. He was clearly in pain, but conscious, a relief to Trip. Maybe not so much of a relief to Virus, who probably would prefer to be unconscious right now.

“Stay awake.” Trip orders.

“As if I could fall asleep under these conditions.” Virus sputters. 

His attitude is still there, too. Good.

###### ※

It had been a bad job. A set-up. Virus had been called by one of their associates about a fight on their territory that was getting too out of hand, had asked them to come down and get it under control. This wasn’t an uncommon call, and Virus thought nothing of it. Virus had Trip on paperwork duty and didn’t think it was worth it to break his focus, so he had gone out on his own. What’s a few rowdy kids to one of Midorijima’s most infamous yakuza, the cocky bright-eyed bastard so perfectly composed it made everyone in the city just want to snap him in half? 

Virus grabbed a couple handguns and made his way down, but when he got to the described location, he found an eerily empty dead-end alley. He didn’t realize until that moment what was happening, what was about to happen. With his left hand he reached for the gun on his hip and with his right he went to tap his coil, and call the only person on his speed-dial.

Trip came as fast as he could, but situations don’t take long to escalate when it’s fifteen versus one. Trip didn’t say a word as he walked down the alley, just pulled his gun and started shooting. He got five of them right off the bat, three in the back and two in the legs. He hadn’t noticed two guys hidden behind the dumpster behind him, and by the time he heard their running footsteps he barely had the time to turn and guard. His face was slammed against the rough brick wall by a fist and the gun knocked from his grip. He stomped down on the gun with his foot so no one could snatch it and immediately came swinging back, his elbow making hard contact with someone’s ribs. Trip ducked another punch and dropped to the ground, picking up his gun and making two quick shots to both of their chests. It was too easy with these guys, grunts who couldn’t even afford bulletproof vests. When Trip stood up, he made sure to walk on top of them and kick one of their heads for good measure.

Everyone who could run had already fled, and all that was left was Trip and scattered moaning bodies. Out of them he saw one with blond hair, and broke out in a sprint towards him.

“Tri--ugh…” Seeing his partner, Virus tried to stand up, but the pain was too strong and he fell back to the ground into a fetal position. He was aware of how pathetic he must look right now, but there wasn’t anyone watching but Trip now. Being vulnerable was alright.

“Help me… up…” 

Trip didn’t need to be told twice. He stooped down and put his arms under Virus’ shoulders, loosely embracing him as he picked him up. He noticed that Virus wasn’t wearing his glasses. There was a small shard of glass stuck on his upper cheek, and Trip saw the broken frames lying on the asphalt. 

Trip moved to let go once Virus was on his feet, but Virus began swaying immediately so he kept an arm around his waist. They walked a meter before Virus yelped and fell further against Trip. Trip looked at him with wide, unsure eyes.

“M-my leg. They cut it. It feels deep.”

Just then, Trip felt a drop of rain hit his face, and a roll of thunder in the distance. Today wasn’t their lucky day.

###### ※

It was supposed to be an easy job, over quick then Virus would grab Trip and they’d head to Ryuuhou’s current shop for his second tattoo session. Trip would have been able to handle it; he was heavily experienced in situations like that and fighting came much more naturally to him. He had some skills and natural instincts that Virus didn’t, and now Virus was paying for that. It was convenient that Ryuuhou’s shop wasn’t far from the area of the attack, closer than any doctor or their own home. So Trip had come here.

Trip moves his hand to cover Virus’ on his thigh. He hadn’t looked at it yet, he’d been more focused on just getting them someplace safe.

“This morning I debated over white or black pants, now I see I made the right decision. Either way, it’s a shame, these pants looked nice on me.” Virus’ breath is airy and exhausted. He’s just talking to relieve his nerves at this point. His eyes travel across the ceiling and the walls, all uncomfortably blurry. He hates not having his glasses.

Even if the dark pants aren’t severely color-stained, they’re wet, cut, and torn all over. Trip recognizes the pair; He doesn’t know the brand but they always did make Virus’ ass look good. At least the good thing about destroying clothes is that you can always buy more. But if Virus is cut and torn, Trip can’t get another. His hand squeezes Virus’.

Ryuuhou reenters the room carrying a box and a few towels in his hands. Trip looks at him, gesturing with one hand for him to put the box down next to him.

“What happened?” He inquires as he kneels down, setting the box next to Trip as he was instructed. He peers curiously over Virus’ face. He seems more interested than concerned. He turns to trip, and notes, “You’re both dripping blood.”

“Yeah.” Trip responds lamely, not paying attention. He just answers so Virus doesn’t have to. 

Trip digs through the box with his left hand, keeping his right hand over Virus’, gripping his cold fingers. He grabs a handful of gauze then slowly picks Virus’ hand off of his leg.

Yeah, it’s deep. “Shit.” He dabs lightly at the blood, but that’s not going to do much.

“Ryuuhou, do you have stuff for stitches?”

“Fuck,” Virus curses. 

“You’re in luck, I do have a bit. It seems I’m used to taking care of yakuza bastards.” Ryuuhou smiles despite the situation. He starts rummaging through the box and pulling out items, careful to touch only the handles, then lays them on a towel he had spread on the mat.

Trip looks at Virus. “I need to take off your pants. Or rip half of ‘em off.”

Virus grimaces for a second, pauses for another second to think. “I don’t want to move, just rip it. They’re already ruined anyway.”

Trip pulls a knife out of his pocket and widens the already-present tear, cutting around the pant leg until it’s detached. He rolls up the upper portion, pushing up Virus’ briefs with it. Then he cuts the rest of his pant leg along the vertical seam and rips it all off, leaving Virus’ thigh fully exposed. Trip pauses for a bit, looking at it.

“What?” Virus questions breathily when Trip’s eyes stay locked on his thigh. He tries to discern Trip’s expression, but his vision is too blurry to pick out the necessary details.

Trip continues to stare, then replies with a thoughtful voice. “You look good with blood.”

“I’m injured, you fuck.” 

Trip shrugs then turns to the box. He snaps on a pair of black latex gloves then looks for rubbing alcohol. When he finds it he takes it and pours some onto a bunched up wad of gauze, running it over the injury. Virus hisses. Trip needs something to distract him with.

“If you’re so used to taking care of yakuza, what’s the worst you’ve seen? Who was it?” Trip asks without looking away.

“Oh?” Ryuuhou is surprised by Trip’s initiation of conversation. Trip has never strung two sentences together in Ryuuhou’s presence. But as he looks to Virus’ face, twisted in discomfort, he understands.

“Well, actually, you might know him…” Ryuuhou begins talking, and Virus’ eyes drift to him. Trip takes advantage of Virus’ shifted attention and turns back to the wound.

Ryuuhou talks away with Virus replying occasionally. The sound of their voices quickly becomes background noise, and Trip can focus. He’s finished twenty stitches by the time he hears the subject of conversation switch.

“Trip seems well practiced at this.”

“Well, it’s not his first time. I’ve seen him stitch himself up four times before. One time on a wound bigger than this.” His eyebrows are knit tight together and when he finishes his sentence he grinds his teeth together, but as far as things go Virus is doing just fine. His voice has returned to its regular evenness. He no longer seems to be panicking, although he is still shivering a bit. 

Ryuuhou stands up then and walks off, but his voice still travels back to them. “Is that so?”

“If he could stay interested in one thing long enough to take an exam, I’m willing to bet he’s skilled enough to get a real medical license.”

He comes back with a bowl of water, steaming just slightly. “That really is impressive.” Ryuuhou picks up a towel that he had brought earlier, and submerges it in the warm water, then raises it up and twists it so excess water drips out. He lifts the cloth to Virus’ face, and wipes away the sheen sweat and dried blood from the many small cuts that now littered his skin. Virus gives a barely audible sigh of relief.

Ryuuhou dips the towel in the bowl of water again, thoroughly kneading the blood out of it, then wrings it out again. He turns to Trip this time and starts dabbing at his cheek. “You’re very talented, aren’t you?” 

Trip’s eyes flick over to him for a moment, to see his thin fox eyes and perpetual smile. He grunts in reply, then returns to the task at hand. Ryuuhou’s hand doesn’t leave his face, and Trip doesn’t shake it off. Virus notices this, and his eyebrows raise.

Ryuuhou can sense that he’s toeing an invisible line too, and wonders how far he can push it. He’s prodding at the jaw of a feral dog. 

“Your mouth is still bleeding. You have a split lip.” A finger comes up to brush against his bottom lip. It’s long and slender, like Virus’, Trip thinks. Trip’s usual impulse to bite is muted.

The finger is replaced by the tip of the towel, and Trip accepts it as it dabs his lip, wipes blood off his nose, cleans the abrasion on his forehead. Trip continues to silently stitch Virus’ leg. 

Virus can’t remember a single time in his life when he has seen Trip be so complacent with another human being, at least not without Virus telling him to calm down. He thinks this is an incredibly interesting development, and a small smile appears on his face as he gazes at the two of them.

Trip finishes up the last stitch and ties it off, rubbing lightly over it one last time with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball. Trip picks up new gauze and wraps it around Virus’ thigh, then wraps a more sturdy bandage around that. He tapes it secure, then leans back. He huffs out a breath, finally relaxing a bit. Virus has calmed down quite a bit too, although he’s still in pain and a little faint from blood loss.

“You never did answer my question.” Ryuuhou notes.

“Hm?” Trip glances at him.

“What happened to the two of you?”

“Oh.”

Virus takes it from there, sighing before explaining the circumstance. He laments his own naïvety. Seven years into this job and he was still susceptible to a simple trick, one that Trip most likely would have caught on to in the very beginning. He ends his monologue with a comment directed at Trip.

“You really aren’t paid enough for what you put up with. I haven’t been on the front lines going on calls for so long it seems I forgot how irritating it can get.”

Ryuuhou hums. “It must have been a personal grudge against you two.”

“Most likely, yes. We’ll be having a long discussion with our now _ex_ -associate about the events of tonight.” 

Trip chuckles a bit at that, flexes his fingers. “Discussion” has a bit different definition in this context. In those kinds of discussions, Trip gets to do most of the communication, and it’s nonverbal. Trip thinks the message gets across much better that way.

Virus shifts on the mat. He tries to hold in his pained groan and fails. He raises his hand to his right eye, and feels swollen, bruised flesh. He took some hard hits tonight. He’s lucky he’s not concussed. 

“Last time we were here you mentioned something about drugging Trip. Could I impose on you so much as to borrow those drugs?”

Ryuuhou smiles at him. “Of course. Would you prefer to be unconscious or half-conscious?”

“At least half-conscious, please.” 

“Aw,” Ryuuhou tilts his head. “Still don’t trust me enough to fall asleep by my side?”

“No.” The duo respond in unison.

Ryuuhou lets out a “tsk” of playful disappointment, then turns to exit the room. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as Ryuuhou’s soft footsteps fade out of hearing range, Virus taps Trip’s hand so he meets his eyes. “It seems you find my taste in artists agreeable?”

It takes a moment for Trip to register what Virus means, then he shrugs. The usual response. “He’s better than the clan ones.” Trip hasn’t decided if he has any particular feelings yet, and he doesn’t feel like introspecting much.

“Well, don’t go eloping and leave me behind.”

At that, Trip looks at him with a strange expression. Suddenly, he leans down and presses a kiss to Virus’ lips. Neither close their eyes, Trip’s unblinking and unphased, Virus’ widened in surprise as a faint taste of blood reaches his tongue.

Trip sits up again, and the contact is broken. Virus licks the blood off his bottom lip.

“I was kidding.” Virus states blandly.

“I know.”

If Virus asks why he kissed him then, he knows Trip will just say “I felt like it”, so he doesn’t bother.

Ryuuhou enters with a tray holding three cups of tea. There’s a blanket draped across his arm as well. Trip puts a hand under Virus’ back to support him as he sits back up. He knows it’s not necessary, that Virus can sit up on his own after an hour of laying down, but he doesn’t lose anything by keeping his hand there and he feels like it.

Virus doesn’t say anything, and upon thinking, ponders that it might be a reaction out of fear. Virus was hurt because Trip wasn’t close, and now Trip wants to be close. Whether Trip is aware of this, or if Virus is even correct, he doesn’t know, but that doesn’t bother him.

Virus takes the drink that Ryuuhou holds out to him, and takes a sip of the warm liquid, feeling it trickle down his throat and into his belly. The faint sweetness is familiar…

“This is serum E-450, isn’t it?”

“Ooh,” Ryuuhou’s eyes sparkle as he sets the tray down on the ground. “How observant of you. Do you use it often?”

Virus laughs. “Trip and I were one of the first test groups for this serum. What was it you always said, Trip?”

“The researchers didn’t know they were just inventing roofies again.” 

“God, that’s right. The first versions really were just roofies. It was sad.” Virus takes another sip. 

Virus always does appreciate how fast it works, though. That was the best improvement they had made in the later versions. Already, the tips of his fingertips felt numb. He slouched backwards, and suddenly Trip’s hand actually did become necessary.

“Ah, I brought this for you as well.” Ryuuhou sets the blanket across Virus’ lap, and his fingers graze Virus’ bare thigh and the bandage wrapped around it. Virus wonders if that’s on purpose, and takes another sip.

“Also, Trip…” Ryuuhou turns, looking straight at him with those deep, cold eyes. Trip thinks they feel hollow, like the echo of an old church bell. “You do still intend to work on your tattoo with me tonight, correct? I’d hate to have to reschedule, I was looking forward to this night so much.” The enthusiasm in his smile seems sincere this time. 

Trip had forgotten about that. He’s not as worn as Virus, mostly because he’s used to taking fight damage. He agrees with Ryuuhou that it would be a drag to reschedule, so he answers, “Sure.” 

That’s the response he gives, but he doesn’t want to move the hand on Virus’ back. Virus’ body is warm and he is clear and the whiteness is seeping into Trip more and more as Virus leans against his shoulder. As long as Virus isn’t moving, he doesn’t feel like moving either.

“Trip, go.” Virus’ voice is soft as his fingers nudge against Trip’s side, barely pushing him. Trip’s obedience is delayed, but he listens, and slowly moves Virus off of him and back down to lay on the mat.

Trip knows from the last time that he has to fully strip for these sessions due to the size and placement of his tattoo. He doesn’t mind showing his body--unlike Virus, who can only be seen fully naked when bathing, or occasionally with Trip--so he stands up and gets it over with.

He feels two pairs of eyes watching intently as he unbuttons and peels a damp dress shirt off his torso and drops it on the ground. He takes off his pants and underwear, then throws them at Virus for no particular reason other than to watch his reaction. Virus’ reaction is to giggle and mumble, “Aw, for me?” He makes no move to brush off the discarded pair of bottoms that now lie on his shoulder. Trip takes a mental image, and thinks to himself that he likes the weird innocent cuteness that Virus sometimes adopts when he’s inebriated. 

No matter how many times Virus sees Trip naked, his admiration for Trip’s form never dulls. As he’s laying on the ground, his brain feeling warm and dull, he thinks that if he were artistic, he’d try sculpting a nude statue of Trip. The thought brings ridiculous images to Virus’ mind, and he muffles a laugh with the back of his hand. 

“What?” Trip squints at Virus. 

“Haha, nothing, nothing. You’re beautiful, Trip.” Virus has a lazy half-smile on his face, much different from the symmetrical one that usually adorns his composed face. 

“I have to agree.” Ryuuhou chimes in, eyeing him adoringly. “I truly am lucky to have such a pretty canvas to work with.”

Trip isn’t sure how to react to the praise, so he just grunts and says a vague, “Thanks”. He’s always known that he has a nice body, and it has a lot of perks--it’s also easy to maintain with all his fighting. What’s that phrase; _“Women want to be with him, and men want to be him”_? Except men want to be with him too.

Ryuuhou accepts that reply with a smile, and steps over to a mat on the other side of the room, opposite of Virus. From this point, Virus doesn’t have to crane his neck or even move from his current position to watch Ryuuhou’s hands frame Trip’s skin the moment he sits down, Ryuuhou already falling into the focused mindset of his creation. 

“It healed very well, Trip. I’m so happy that you took such good care of my art.” Ryuuhou runs gentle fingers around the settled ink that swirls around Trip’s shoulders. He can’t help but praise himself for his work so far; he was correct in his judgement when he chose this design. He’s confident the rest of the design will make use of his canvas just as well.

“I’m sure I owe you some credit too, Virus.” Ryuuhou looks over at him briefly to flash a smile. “If I understand correctly, Trip is talented at many things, but self-restraint is not one of them.”

Virus laughs in agreement. “I lost three pens saving that tattoo. He kept trying to scratch at it… Now we get to do that all over again.”

“I’m sure it’ll be a wonderful team building exercise.”

Trip now lays flat on the mat, his head turned so he can stare at Virus. Normally he’d start getting bored, but so much has happened tonight that his mind has slowed down, and he’s stimulated enough by the sound of the other two’s light banter and the sensation of Ryuuhou’s hands on his back. Trip lets his eyes lose focus watching Virus’ lips form words and eyes crinkle with the occasional chuckle. He hears the metallic clink of Ryuuhou’s needles as he sorts through them, searching for the size he wants. 

In a strange moment of self-awareness, Trip realizes that he feels no animosity right now. The fire that burns underneath his skin and makes him want to snap and glare and strangle people just isn’t there. And when they touch him, Ryuuhou’s hands don’t feel soaked in mud.

Huh. Funny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had a bit of trouble writing the end to this chapter. It sat unfinished for a week and I just wrote the ending last night. The way my writing style is, it's easy for me to do something like not finish chapter 3, then write all of chapters 4 and 5... It's both a blessing and a curse, especially when you can't remember whether you finished something or not. I wish I were more organized.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S.  
> I think my writing style can be a bit choppy and hard to follow sometimes. If something is confusing, don't hesitate to leave a comment and ask about it.


End file.
